


Virtue

by Eralk Fang (EralkFang)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Cannibalism, First Time, Hux Gets Force High on Jedi Ashes, M/M, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Ritual Sex, Space Latin, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 09:02:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,725
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7164650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EralkFang/pseuds/Eralk%20Fang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It was my understanding,” Hux says, slowly, “that the Knights of Ren are a celibate order.”</p><p>“They are,” Ren confirms. “But the Master is not meant to be.”</p><p>  <em>(Tagged as cannibalism due to the consumption of Jedi ashes.)</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Virtue

**Author's Note:**

> So [reserve](http://reserve.tumblr.com/) said "we need more kylux first time fic" and I thought _how can I make this weird_.

_This is it_ , General Hux thinks, as Kylo Ren advances on him. _He’s finally going to kill me._

On the one hand, he’s almost perversely proud that he’s finally managed to bring their long-simmering antagonism to the boil of physical violence. On the other hand, he has no idea what finally pushed Ren over the edge. Ren’s been surprisingly civil for the past fortnight—even downright helpful on occasion. He should have known, Hux thinks ruefully, that it was a ruse, that Ren was just trying to get him to lower his guard so he could corner him in Conference Room D and—

 _Kiss_ him?

It’s an unexpected overture, but, Hux must admit, not an unwelcome one. Ren’s technique, however, leaves something to be desired. He’s just holding his closed lips to Hux’s and... _breathing_.

Hux lifts his chin to correct the angle. When that’s not enough, he slips a hand into the hair at the base of Ren’s neck to correct it further. He tugs until Ren’s head tilts down instead of up and his nose presses against the side of his own.

That’s much better, especially once Ren takes the hint that kissing involves some kind of movement. Ren’s mouth feels just as obscene as it looks—soft, wet, and firm, like an internal part of the body. They kiss like that for a few silent moments, until Hux gives into the temptation to graze his teeth along Ren’s plush lower lip. Ren makes a noise, an indeterminate gasp somewhere between arousal and surprise. It’s quiet, but it’s loud enough to remind Hux that they’re in an open conference room, Ren is, well, _Ren_ , and this is a _monumentally_ stupid idea.

Hux raises a hand into the scant space between their bodies and pushes against Ren’s— _firm_ —chest, prying him off with a soft noise. He licks his lips and looks up their slight height difference into Ren’s eyes, and he looks—different. As if kissing him has transformed him into a man of flesh and blood, instead of a creature of ash and flame. _Fairy stories_ , Hux sniffs mentally, and shakes his head slightly to rid himself of such a sentimental notion.

Ren leans in; their foreheads collide. His hand slides up Hux’s arm and lands on his wrist, encircling it easily with his long fingers. “Will you lay with me, General?” Ren asks, breath hot on Hux’s lips, voice low. Something stirs low in Hux’s belly.

Hux has never been propositioned so forwardly. There are many things he could say to _that_ , but the most obvious comes to mind first. “It was my understanding,” Hux says, slowly, “that the Knights of Ren are a celibate order.”

“They are,” Ren confirms. “But the Master is not meant to be.”

Hux narrows his eyes. Meant? “So you’re still—“

Ren winces, subtly. “I was supposed to give up my virtue when I took the cowl, but the opportunity was… taken from me. No other opportunity has presented itself since then.” Ren lifts his head, separating their skin. “And now I have left it too late. Supreme Leader is sending me into the heart of Imdaar.”

“It’s true, then?” Hux asks. "The caverns will not admit virgins?"

Ren nods. “There are ways around it, but my virtue has become a liability. I need to be rid of it if I am to continue my search.”

Hux purses his lips, suppressing the urge to roll his eyes. Trust Ren to treat losing his virginity as just another step in his fruitless treasure hunt for Skywalker. “Any port in a storm, then, I take it?”

“I have not settled on you randomly,” Ren says, hurriedly. “When I knew it was time, I meditated. I asked for the Force for guidance.”

“And what did the _Force_ have to say?”

Ren misses Hux’s mocking tone. “That I have let my anger blind me. That you are the obvious choice, although you are not a Force user.” Ren’s eyes flicker up and down Hux’s body, and there’s some heat to his gaze.

Hux considers—longer than he needs to, just to see Ren squirm. There’s no chance he’s going to pass up the opportunity to wipe the usual look of superiority off of Ren’s face with a twist of his hand or a judicious thrust of his hips. He wonders if Ren’s loud. He looks like he would be.

“Kiss me again,” Hux orders, smirking.

“What?” Ren says, although the edges of his face—those ridiculous ears, the ridges of his cheekbones—color prettily.

“I need to see if we’re sexually compatible before I say yes or no.”

Ren hesitates for a moment, before tilting his chin up to proffer his mouth. He’s going to have train Ren out of that habit, Hux thinks, and fists his hands in Ren’s tunic to kiss him, _hard_.

This time, he presses their bodies together. Underneath his elaborate robes, Ren’s body feels firm and broad, and something’s definitely gaining interest against Hux’s crotch. Hux licks into Ren’s mouth and Ren groans. He can feel himself start to respond and—and that’s enough. He has somewhere to be in half an hour that is not, sadly, his personal quarters, introducing Ren to his cock face first.

He pushes Ren away, hard enough to make him stumble. Ren rights himself. His gloved hand flickers to his mouth. “Well?”

“I consent,” Hux says, with a genteel nod. “After my shift ends—“

“No,” Ren says, drawing himself up to his full height. Now that he’s secured Hux’s consent, it seems, he’s turning back into his usual self—grim. Self-important. _Infuriating_. “It must be done right.”

Hux raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to explain that he can be trusted to do it right, with all the preparation and lubricant time and money can buy, but Ren cuts him off. “When the vernal moon is full over the plains of Moraband,” Ren says.

Hux stares at him. He could have quoted the entirety of the Ballad of Shan’Gredor and made exactly the same amount of sense. “If you haven’t noticed, Ren, we’re on a ship. In _orbit_.”

Ren sniffs. “ _Which_ will be tomorrow evening, according to the _Finalizer_ ’s chronometer. And it must be done according to the old ways. I will send you the relevant scripture.”

 _Oh, fantastic_ , Hux thinks, _a tryst with_ homework. Ren furrows his brows. “General, it’s no small thing, taking a Force user’s virtue.”

“Nervous, Ren?"

Ren glares at him, which makes Hux grin. A further thought occurs to him. “That wasn’t your first kiss, was it?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Ren scowls, but the irregular edges of his face go red. Whatever that kiss was, it was close enough to count. The idea of flustering and overwhelming Ren with just his touch appeals to Hux.

As does the idea of killing two birds with one stone. Hux wouldn't last a second in the caverns of Imdaar.

 

Hux does not really consider himself a virgin.

The sheer biodiversity of the galaxy alone complicates a concept most often used to police some gender or other’s cultural agency. If, say, Nautolans can reproduce without ever technically penetrating each other, what does that say about cultures that insist virginity can only be lost by receiving oral sex?

And it’s not as if he’s _inexperienced_. He knows the way a cock feels in his hand, the way a cunt feels under his tongue. At the Academy, it was almost an expected way to trade favors. Certainly the most expedient, in Hux’s opinion. But he never let anyone put their mouth on him. Far better, he had thought at the time, to have his peers owe him than him owe them.

But, he is, nonetheless, by most mammalian species’ standard, a virgin. He has not penetrated anyone or been penetrated by anyone. He faces the same problem that Ren does—a lack of appropriate partners. Though they’ve only failed the test of discretion and not the standards of the Force. As he’s climbed the ranks, the pool of potential appropriate romantic or sexual interests has dwindled ever further until he found himself left with Ren and Captain Phasma. He’d considered Phasma, briefly, before he’d met her husband and taken an instant dislike to the man.

In a way, it’s almost a relief that Ren’s approached him, apologetic about having maintained his virtue and eager to divest himself of it. It gives him an opportunity to rid himself of his own without making a fuss over it.

He’s not worried about hiding his virginity from Ren until they’ve successfully deflowered each other. He has plenty of tricks to dazzle Ren, a sacred virgin who’s probably masturbated the same way his entire life, with, and Ren hardly seems like he’d be a generous, considerate lover even if he was experienced. It’s also easier to lie to a mind reader, Force user or not, than most people realize. All it really takes is two things—force of will and confidence. Two things Hux likes to think he has in spades.

 

The next morning, Hux wakes up to a message from Ren in his inbox with two attachments, no body text, and no subject line. The two attachments are a transcript of a short passage in High Galactic and, insultingly, an automatically generated translation of the first attachment into Basic.

Hux takes a great deal of pleasure in deleting the latter. Almost as much as he takes in actually translating the former himself.

It’s a short passage—the Sith were nothing if not succinct. _Just look at the Rule of Two_ , he thinks, and then pauses, a little horrified that he’s managed to absorb even that much Sith lore just from repeated exposure to Ren. But it takes longer to translate than he expects. He wishes he had the original document to translate from, because whoever transcribed the passage did a hack job.

 _Probably Ren_ , he thinks darkly.

Eventually, though, he’s teased it into Basic, but that raises a different issue—the passage dances around the point. It’s obviously about sex, but it never specifically references either virginity or the act itself, just “the gift” and “the giving of essence.”

Essence? Hux rethinks his translation of that noun. He punches it into the dictionary on his datapad, but his mind works quicker than the application. High Galactic loves its prudish metaphors almost as much as its phallocentrism. In this context, then, it makes sense that a reference to someone’s “essence” might be a reference to a man’s seed.

With that in mind, the passage becomes a lot clearer.

It’s remarkably progressive for an ancient Sith text. The virgin (or “they who have not been touched,” strictly speaking, but Hux doesn’t have all day) is presented as a vessel, to be sure, but their virtue is characterized as a gift to be given, not something precious to be hoarded. The virgin gives their virtue to their more experienced partner. In exchange, the experienced partner shares a desirable trait of theirs with the virgin—a trait transmitted via their essence.

The passage uses the neutral gender to refer to both the virgin and their partner—presumably to cover all eventualities—but Hux mentally illustrates it with masculine bodies, borrowed from his occasional perusal of adult holovids. The idea that Ren came to him to ask him, essentially, to come in him is an intoxicating one.

Perhaps he should review the best method for opening someone up, he thinks, warming up to the logistical challenge of being Ren’s sexual debut. At the very least, he should have a plan.

He always has a plan.

 

When Ren's summons comes, illuminating the datapad in his hand, Hux is just ending his shift. He considers going back to his quarters and washing up, just to make Ren wait, but he’s spent his rare idle moments during his shift thinking about what Ren’s face will look like when he finally pushes into him.

He goes, at a respectable pace.

Ren’s quarters are in an awkward corner of the senior officers’ quarters, far away from the others. His door is locked, but Hux knows the override. He lets himself in.

Ren's quarters are dark, but there's a thin line of light at the base of the second door on the far side of the room. Behind that door lies the reason for the location of Ren's quarters: his meditation chamber.

Odd, Hux thinks, that this is the only part of the _Finalizer_ he's never laid eyes on.

He advances, narrowly avoiding tripping over something obstructing his path in the dark, and the door engages with a groaning whir.

Ren's never oiled the damn thing, Hux realizes with a sting of irritation. He should take better care of his things.

The meditation chamber is perhaps half the size of Hux's office. An overhead light casts a medical glare on the center of the room and shadow on its walls, making Hux feel slightly marooned in the space. The air feels, impossibly, heavier in here. The light catches on the edges of a massive golden circle drawn on the floor in the center of the room, in some thick paint. Somewhere, distantly, there's a droning noise, separate to the usual, comforting hum of the _Finalizer_ 's engines. Which he can't hear at all, he realizes. It must be soundproofed thoroughly, which means that the droning noise is emanating from something in here. It reminds him of the summer cicadas on Arkanis.

The door behind him slams shut with its groan, and Hux turns.

“You’re early,” Ren says.

Ren seemingly coalesces out of the shadows, stepping half into the light. The play of light and shadow over his overlarge features is disorientating. His hair is in disarray and his eyes look different. He's so distracting from the neck up that it takes Hux a moment to realize that he’s naked.

He looks more at home in his body than Hux has ever felt in his. Ren wears his body the same way an animal does—unashamedly. And there's nothing for him to be ashamed of. The fact of Ren’s size hits Hux like a blow—the breadth of his chest, the thickness of his arms, the formidable cock flaccid between his thighs. There’s little grace to him, but he does not need it.

“I’m on time,” Hux says, irritably. “Isn’t this a bit formal? I had rather been expecting a bed to be involved.”

Ren approaches him, eyes roaming all over Hux’s body. “This is how it was supposed to be done. The Force does not like to linger on ships. I have had to do some… convincing.”

Ren’s naked skin is radiating warmth like a furnace. Hux feels himself flush, feels himself respond. Ren places his hands on his hips, threading his thumbs under the belt of Hux’s uniform. He looms in for a kiss.

Hux gives it to him. Ren’s more active this time—he’s getting better at it, Hux thinks, and a thrill runs through him at the idea that he taught Ren how to kiss. The droning noise rises in the background of Hux’s awareness. Ren murmurs against his mouth, and then pulls back.

Hux looks up their scant height difference into Ren’s eyes. His pupils are dilated, almost blown. He frowns. “Have you been drinking?”

“Fasting,” Ren says. He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Are you ready to be purified?”

Normally, Hux would scoff at such a request, but there’s something about the way Ren is looking at him and the weight of the droning noise in his ears that stops him short. The _Finalizer_ may be his ship, but this is Ren’s territory. He glances down at Ren’s mouth, heavy and slack with desire, and nods.

Ren sinks, slowly, to kneel at his feet. Hux smirks at the sight of it. Ren tugs on Hux's heel, hand warm even through the leather of his boot, and Hux lets him take his foot into his lap. Ren looks up at him from under his dark eyelashes, and Hux’s cock twitches against his thigh, stirring. The contrast between the gleaming leather of his boot and Ren’s bare flesh appeals to him deeply.

Ren tugs the boot off gently, and then peels Hux's sock off to expose his long, pale foot. They repeat the process with Hux’s other boot, Hux’s cock swelling at the sight of Ren being so _serviceable_. “Neatly,” Hux orders, when Ren tosses his boots and socks off to the side, but Ren ignores his request. He rises to his feet and presses his hands to Hux’s chest. 

Hux can’t resist kissing him again. Ren unzips his jacket and starts in on his shirt. Hux takes off his gloves himself, before Ren can peel them off and hurl them into the dark, stuffing them into the inside pocket of his jacket. Ren tugs his jacket and shirt off his shoulders, baring them, and they break apart so Hux can pull his arms out of the sleeves. The garments fall to the floor. Hux seizes the back of his undershirt and pulls it off. When he surfaces from the rough fabric, Ren has receded from him. “You’re not done,” Hux calls out to his back. It’s only been a day—surely hunger hasn’t driven Ren completely out of his mind?

Ren looks over his shoulder. There’s a small table near the boundary of the circle that Hux has overlooked, littered with bowls and cups and vials. It’s a menacing assortment. It reminds Hux of the useful array of objects in the interrogation rooms. Ren returns to him with a angular, metallic cup in his hand. Hux glances down to find Ren’s thick cock already at half-mast.

Ren presses the cup into Hux’s hand. It’s full of some dark liquid. There's a light-colored powdery substance on top of it, its edges darkened with moisture.

"You're not Force sensitive," Ren explains, "but this will open you up."

"To your mind?" Hux says smoothly, swallowing down panic at the idea of Ren rampaging around in his head. _Confidence_ , he reminds himself. _Force of will._

"Not to me." The droning noise seems louder than ever.

Ren’s penchant for being willfully cryptic annoys Hux. He eyes the concoction again. A chunk of the powder disintegrates, leaving behind two distinct continents floating on the surface. "What is this?"

"Ashes," Ren says. He's not looking at Hux anymore—he seems fascinated with Hux's chest. Hux flushes. Ren's noticed that their nipples are different colors. "From the bones of the Jedi I've killed."

For a moment, Hux balks. But the droning sound intensifies, burrowing into his ears, as he looks into the cup. He suddenly remembers his survival training at the Academy, when his cadet squadron had been dropped on the far side of Ione's Canyon with a week's supplies and told to make it back to the Academy in two.

They hadn't all made it back.

He blinks as the memory recedes, back into the compartment where he keeps it. After _that_ , he thinks, what harm can human remains do?

He drinks.

"This is foul," Hux splutters, coughing so violently that he loses his grip on the cup. It drops to the floor with a ringing noise. Ren, in his endless depravity, has cut the ashes with _liquor_ , and it burns a white line of heat all the way down his esophagus. Ren traces that line, throat to navel, with a calloused finger as he swallows.

The touch and the burn make him feel like he's been cut open, prepared like an autopsy. He closes his eyes, and the droning noise suddenly inverts, coming not from _outside_ him, but _within_ him. It's as if it's penetrated into his body through the line of Ren's touch.

Ren tugs on the belt of his trousers. Hux squeezes his eyes shut, trying to focus. The droning noise is now accompanied by a buzzing, vibrating sensation, as if his ribs and the organs they protect have all been replaced with a wasps' nest. For a moment, it blocks out all other sensations, but when Ren undoes his fly and pulls down his underwear and trousers in one movement, squatting to the floor, Hux comes back to his body. He steps out of the puddle of fabric at his feet without thinking.

Hux looks down to find that Ren's eyes have snagged on his cock. His breath is hot and moist against the skin of Hux’s shaft. Hux imagines pressing the head of his still half-soft cock against Ren's lips, parting them with it, precome dripping onto his slack lower lip. The idea makes him swell to full attention under Ren’s watchful gaze.

"Yours is crooked," Ren says.

Hux lifts his leg, bending his knee, and presses his foot into Ren's chest, until Ren topples backwards, catching himself on his palms. "Am I sufficiently purified?"

Ren rarely smiles, and he does not do so now. But his face broadens expressively, turning him wolfish, wild. The buzzing in his chest intensifies, making Hux shudder.

Ren lumbers to his feet and takes Hux by the elbows, pressing the side of the hips together to hinge their bodies. Hux looks down at their differences. Ren's sallow skin against his pale, Ren's moles against his freckles, Ren's thick, now fully erect, cock outsizing his. But he's seeing something else, something he can't objectively quantify. He has the disorienting sensation of seeing something _overlaid_ on Ren that's not actually there. Or, rather, _underlaid_ , as if Ren's skin is the surface of a pond filled with gleaming, muscular fish that flit away when he tries to focus.

He lets Ren lead him into the circle, instinctively stepping over the line of its boundary as not to break it. Ren kneels again, and this time, Hux kneels with him.

Ren's hands begin to wander over Hux's arms, his chest, leaving trails of heat in their wake. Hux's cock pulses at the sensation, hard enough to ache, but the buzzing in his ears and chest seems to both magnify sensation and make it manageable. He leans in to kiss at Ren's mouth, his neck, rubbing his hands over Ren’s flesh. Somewhere, he's aware that they're petting each other as tentatively as the virgins they are, but the buzzing thing in his chest tells him that it doesn't matter. What does matter are the small noises that Ren is making, how his blood warms his skin, how much he wants to fix his mouth over the corner of his jaw and suck a bruise into Ren's skin. He does so. Ren moans.

Hux's wandering hand slips down the muscled terrain of Ren's stomach and past the thick thatch of dark hair below his navel to wrap itself around Ren's cock. The head of Ren's cock is slick and still leaking. Hux swipes his thumb across Ren's slit, smearing precome into it. Ren bucks his hips into Hux's hand with a desperate noise. He clutches at Hux's shoulder.

Hux is tempted, by habit, to stroke Ren until he comes, undo him just with his hand, but the buzzing thing in his ears and chest grows—not louder, but _firmer_ , warning him away from the temptation. He obeys it.

He pulls his hand away and wipes the wet on Ren's stomach. Ren takes a shuddering breath and presses his forehead to Hux's shoulder. The heavy pressure in the room _contracts_ , pulsing once with a thrumming sound, and Hux can see faint stars pinprick at the edge of his vision.

True to Ren's word, his mind is open, sensitive to things he cannot normally feel. He feels like a dowsing rod over an ocean, Ren's immense power echoing faintly in him. "Is this what it feels like?" he asks.

"Most of the time," Ren says, lifting his head to look Hux in the eye. "Sometimes it's worse." They stare at each other for a moment, and Hux suffers a wave of understanding that he does not want.

It makes Ren uncomfortable, too. Something shifts, shadowed, across the planes of his face. He glances down, panting a little, at Hux's mouth, sending another wave of wanting heat through him. "Do you want to open me up? I can do it," he adds, hastily, when Hux doesn’t respond quickly enough.

The image of Ren working himself open, biting his lip and ignoring his throbbing cock as wet pulses weakly out of the tip, overwhelms him. "I want to seeyou do it," Hux says. He presses his hand to Ren's chest and pushes until Ren shifts and sprawls onto his back.

He savors the way Ren yields to him.

"There's slick on the table," Ren says. Hux stands up and walks over. He reaches his arms out of the circle to fetch it, ignoring how the small cup of ashes makes his skin tingle as his hand passes over it. He turns back and his mouth goes dry at the sight of Ren, sprawled naked within the circle. The buzzing thing in his ears and chest see him as a being of raw, unfiltered power, ready to finally give up his virtue, but Hux catches on the more mundane details—the way Ren's legs are trembling, the jut of his thick cock over the plane of his abs, the long, muscular column of his throat and chest. Hux _aches._

He lies down next to Ren, on his side, propping his head up on his hand. He sets the vial of oil on Ren's chest. Ren strains his head up as he opens the vial and dips a finger in. It's clear, the oil, but thick, viscous. It drips obscenely over Ren's knuckles.

Ren glances up at Hux as he tucks his slick finger behind his balls. He tenses and then relaxes, closing his eyes and biting his lip against a moan. For a moment, Hux watches, fascinated. Ren's squirming, almost vibrating. Hux is sure he doesn't do that when he fingers himself. But how can he be certain? Perhaps he should record himself, just to be sure.

Ren closes his eyes and lolls his head. Some subterranean shadow shifts over his neck, and Hux knows Ren is, briefly, elsewhere. The buzzing in his chest intensifies, and he suddenly knows that Ren is thinking of someone else.

His missed opportunity. 

Hux runs his right hand down Ren's arm and cups his hand over Ren's occupied one, stroking Ren's slick index finger to slick his own. Ren groans and shudders. Hux presses at the juncture of finger and rim, tracing at the tight, puckered circle. He continues to trace, gently, patiently, until his finger slips in, wet and snug between Ren's finger and the firm smoothness off his inner walls.

Ren grunts and jerks his head, opening his eyes to stare at Hux. "Who was he?" Hux says. "The man I'm replacing."

Ren grimaces. ”Ibys. Ibys Ren, the Master of the Knights of Ren before me."

The buzzing thing travels up Hux’s spine and into his head. Hux grunts in anticipated but unrequited pain. Instead of pain, he's assaulted with a sudden rush of images. Hux has no idea if they're real or the product of his Force-addled mind. He sees Ren, head shaved, mouth heavy and bruised like fruit, kneeling before a masked man in black—Ibys, presumably. Ren, head stubbled, training bare-chested under Ibys' watchful eye. Ren, hair grown out but braided back, pressed against a bulkhead, Ibys' unseen mouth on his.

"He's the one that kissed you," Hux says, confused and almost nauseated by the rush of possessive anger that clutches at his chest. It's not his. He presses his finger deeper into Ren, knuckle pressing against the firm knot of his prostate. Ren moans and leaks, but nods. "He was going to do this. He wanted to do this. Did you let him touch you?"

“W-what?" Ren stutters.

"Did you let him take any liberty as long as it wasn't this one?"

Hux shouldn't be angry. Ren turning out to be a hair more experienced than he let on doesn't affect him one way or another. But the great buzzing thing inside of him, holding his mind open, is enraged that Ren has held onto Ibys for so long, letting his desire curdle into a liability. There’s a sudden burning sensation in Hux’s throat. ”Your nostalgia," Hux says, in a serrated voice that is barely his own, "will be your undoing."

"I didn't!" Ren protests. "But I wanted him to. I thought about it."

The buzzing trickles out of Hux's head to settle in his chest as Hux is overwhelmed with the image of Ren touching himself, touching _inside_ himself, over his desire for this Ibys, imagining how Ibys would fill him when the time came. Wasting his time wishing and wanting, even after Ibys' death.

Death? The buzzing thing provides a quick flash of dark robes crumpling, of Ren’s anger and pain at his loss. "He was taken from you too soon,” Hux says. “But you need to let him go."

"I know," Ren says, with a dry sob. "I know."

Hux presses his face to the side of Ren's, nipping and kissing his sweaty skin as he wriggles his finger within him. Ren gives a low, falconish keen. "I will drive him from your mind," Hux murmurs into his ear. "I will drive him from your flesh."

"I knew you were the right choice," Ren gasps.

Hux pulls his finger out, but not before testing the stretch of Ren's rim, tugging at the tender flesh. Satisfied, he tugs Ren's hand away and rises to kneel between Ren's legs.

The view is nice, but Ren’s hole is too hidden for Hux’s needs. He grabs the backs of Ren's thighs and pushes, until Ren is exposed to him. Ren groans and his hole contracts. Hux's cock aches, _leaks_ , at the sight of his wanting, untouched flesh.

Words bubble up from the great buzzing thing in his ears and chest. "You are giving me your virtue. What would you have in return?"

"I would have your strength of will," Ren chokes out, eyes bright and glossy. 

"You will have it."

Hux lines them up, pressing the head of his cock against Ren's entrance. Ren groans and then whines as Hux pushes in. _Slowly, slowly_ , Hux reminds himself, but it’s difficult. Ren is so hot and wet and _tight_ inside, parting for him beautifully.

Yielding to Hux, like it’s his right.

Hux almost starts when he finally bottoms out, balls snug against Ren's flesh. His skin is roiling with heat all over his body, and the buzzing in his ears and chest begin to merge, resolving into one sensation that crawls down his body.

He glances down at Ren to find his face slack, his mouth wet with his own spit. Hux begins to move, slowly rolling his hips, and grunts at how _good_ it feels. Underneath him, Ren groans, and Hux watches his eyes roll into the back of his head. _There's really not that much thrusting involved_ , he thinks, stupidly. He lets go of Ren's thighs, abandoning their awkward position, to bracket Ren's shoulders with his hands. Ren's hips roll forward with the weight of his legs, and they both gasp as that pushes Hux into his body deeper. Hux feels his balls tighten and his orgasm almost tear out of him, but he squeezes his pelvic muscles and it passes. He feels light-headed, but stable.

Until he twists his hips and Ren groans, low and long, his mismatched features—the patrician nose, the full mouth, the crooked plane on which they rest—rearranging into something that borders on beautiful. It surprises Hux so much that he comes, hissing.

It’s much more intense than when he touches himself, even when he takes his time. It feels like he’s being turned inside out, the low, droning note, the last remnants of the buzzing thing that’s been roosting in his chest, pouring out with each spurt of his cock. He drops his head and _whines_ at the unfamiliar, wet sensation of coming in someone else’s body, a whine matched by Ren’s low, breathy sounds.

After a moment, his head clears—completely. He opens his eyes. The buzzing sensation and the droning noise are both gone, as if they never existed in his body, and he finds, perversely, that he misses it, misses seeing the shadows slip under Ren's skin. He shuffles backwards on his knees awkwardly, softening cock slipping free from Ren's body. He stares as some of his come, mixed with the slick, drools out of Ren's stretched, red rim. It's filthy enough to make his soft cock twitch weakly.

Ren is still hard, leaking. Hux sits back on his heels, peeling a sweat-stuck strand of hair from his forehead. He feels unsettlingly sober. And sticky. He takes a breath and intends to take Ren in hand to finish him off, but Ren looks up at him. "That's it?"

Hux's face screws up in fury. Ren has no idea what he’s talking about. Hux has driven people to incoherence with just his mouth before. He lunges forward to swallow Ren's cock, to prove the point.

But it’s been too long and Ren is bigger than he’s ever taken. When he tries to press Ren’s cock into his throat, his gag reflex rebels. He chokes, mouth flooding with saliva, which is, _of course_ , the moment that Ren comes, crying out as he floods Hux’s mouth. It’s too much—he pulls off, falling to his hands, and spits out a mouthful of saliva and come, eyes watering. Hux coughs and gasps for breath, missing the aftershocks of Ren’s orgasm.

After a few moments, Hux can breathe. And Ren speaks. “I came in your mouth,” Ren says. He sounds surprised.

Hux looks up at Ren. He suddenly remembers that there was no mention of the virgin sharing their essence with their partner in the scripture. “Is that a problem?” he asks.

Ren licks his lips. He looks distractingly well-fucked. Hux feels pleased with himself. “No,” he says, finally. “Only if you had any virtue to give.”

Hux’s blood runs cold as Ren tugs him down for a salty kiss.

Somewhere, he hears a noise like wasps.


End file.
